


Gardens

by alkjira



Series: Evergreen [5]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Diplomacy, Established Relationship, Family Feels, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 23:13:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3506285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alkjira/pseuds/alkjira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gardens are very important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gardens

**Author's Note:**

> I feel this is either the best or the worst summary I will ever make.  
> But like, if you're reading part 5 out of a series you know what to expect at this point  
> And if you've not actually read the other parts, please go and read the other parts.

“I’m so sorry it took so long to make this meeting happen,” Bilbo Baggins apologised whilst serving Lindir tea.  
  
It was a bit difficult to remain seated and allow himself to be served tea by the Royal Consort of Erebor, but Lindir thought he did a rather good job of it. He’d managed to bite back five protests thus far, and he was hopeful that the continuation would go just as well.  
  
“I understand entirely,” Lindir said and smiled slightly, a smile that he had to concentrate to keep when he saw the dark look the King gave him.

They were a study in contrasts, the King and Consort.  
  
Lindir had met them both before, in Rivendell as the Company of Thorin Oakenshield had been heading east on business that was plain enough to see by anyone who had eyes, regardless of what some might think.  
  
Regardless, the Hobbit before him now was very different from the Hobbit he had met in Rivendell.   
  
Compared to the Hobbit he had been then, Bilbo Baggins seemed much more sure of himself now, more content, though content was a poor word for it. He was almost glowing with happiness and delight and Lindir did not think it was due to his visit.

The King on the other hand had a heavy frown firmly settled on his brow, just as he'd had in Rivendell, and his stern expression only lightened when he turned his gaze to his Consort. As soon as he turned back to Lindir the look on his face seemed to indicate that he either expected an attack at any moment, or possibly a kidnap-attempt on his consort.  
  
Lindir did not know if such thing happened with a frequency to merit such suspiciousness, but he had half a mind to assure the Dwarven King that he harboured no such intentions. Only, he was fairly sure it wouldn’t actually help.

It might in fact make things worse as it would prove that he had in fact thought about the Consort and kidnapping in quick succession.  
  
Not wanting to antagonise the Dwarven King more what appeared to be necessary Lindir straightened a little on his chair (a suitably low chair so he was not towering over his hosts as that would have been very impolite) and tried to subtly nudge the conversation towards talk of trade agreements and mutually beneficial alliances. Better to have this done with quickly as the King's disposition was not likely to soften towards him if he outstayed what little welcome he had.  
  
Only, and he was not sure where he’d gone wrong, somehow he ended up discussing gardening with the Consort instead, and the benefits and uses of various herbs and vegetables.  
  
Not until something very close to a snore came from King Thorin did Lindir realise how long his and the Consort’s discussion had actually been. Not to mention that his tea had gone cold.

Lindir opened his mouth to apologise, not knowing exactly what he was going to apologise for without making it sound rude, but the Consort shook his head before he could figure it out.  
  
“Please ignore him,” the little Hobbit said with a fond note to his voice and an even fonder look at his husband. “We’ve had a few late nights recently. What were you saying about lavender? Do you really use it in cooking?”  
  
After another glance at the dozing King Lindir nodded. “For desserts mostly. Or in tea. If you have the possibility you must come to Rivendell and try the lavender honey cakes.”

“Oh, I would love to-“  
  
“You are _not_ going to Rivendell.”  
  
“Yes hello, darling,” the Consort said, patting his husband on the hand. “You _are_ allowed to come with me.”  
  
The expression on the King’s face was oddly similar to the one that usually appeared on Bard’s face whenever Lord Elrond or Rivendell was mentioned. Lindir rather felt that this did not bode well.

“You-“ King Thorin began, but the Royal Consort patted his hand again before twining their fingers together, and the King fell silent.  
  
“Or we could perhaps enter into some sort of agreement that would mean exchanges of such things as recipes and other things. If we had such an agreement then the need to visit Rivendell wouldn’t be as dire.“  
  
Lindir’s eyes widened.  
  
-  
  
“The Royal Consort is… “ Lindir looked at Bard and tried to find the words to describe what had happened. “He- I thought we were actually discussing gardening. Plants, flowers. And then he arranges for me to have the trade agreement with a single _sentence_. All but _blackmailing_ his husband and King-”  
  
Bard huffed out a small laugh. “He’s an interesting fellow for sure.”

“And he offered to adopt me.” Lindir bit his bottom lip. “I’m not sure if he was jesting or not.”  
  
“What did Thorin say?”  
  
“That the Consort was much too young to adopt me.”  
  
“Ah,” Bard said, looking entirely too amused. “Well, I wouldn’t mind, as long as you live here and not inside the mountain. If Bilbo thinks otherwise we’ll need to have words. Oh, that reminds me-” As soon as the amused looked disappeared from Bard’s face Lindir missed it dreadfully.  
  
“What is it?” he asked, gently covering one of Bard’s hands with one of his own.  
  
“I talked to the children about us.”  
  
“Yes?” Lindir said, not really understanding. “You said before that they already know?” He didn't expect Bard to share any details. Just the idea made him want to take Bilbo up on a potential offer to live inside the mountain and never again go outside.  
  
Bard chuckled, once, and brushed his thumb over Lindir’s knuckles. “Yes, of course. But I wanted to explain a few things to them. To avoid any misunderstandings. Things like how no one is ever going to replace their mother. And that I love them. Very much. And that I love you. Also very much. And that you'll be part of our lives.” Bard shrugged one shoulder. “They told me that they already knew. Children.”  
  
“I don't know her name,” Lindir said softly. “Your wife’s name.”

“Daphne.”  
  
“Daphne,” Lindir repeated. “Do you think- would she mind? That I’m here?”  
  
Bard shook his head. “No, she knew-" The sigh trailing the words was a heavy one. "She knew she wasn't going to- she wanted me to find love again. I said I couldn’t imagine such a thing. Turns out she was the one who was right." He was silent for a moment. "She usually was.”

“You rarely speak of her.”  
  
“It’s, hard.”  
  
“If you wish to talk, I’ll be happy to listen.” Lindir placed his other hand over Bard’s as well, holding on to it with both of his.  
  
“Thank you," Bard said and bent his head to press a kiss to the back of Lindir's hand. "I'll keep it in mind."

-  
  
There was still the small matter of signing the trade agreement, but Lindir wasn’t too worried about that. He had faith that the Consort would help in this matter.  
  
But he still slipped out of bed some time after midnight, to go outside and lie beneath the stars instead. After it was signed he had to go back to Rivendell and it had surprised him how much the thought of being separated from Bard bothered him. The fact that it would only be temporary only helped a little.  
  
However this time he’d not been outside long before he could hear familiar steps and then the front door opening.  
  
“Lindir?” Bard whispered.  
  
“Up here.”  
  
“What are you doing on the _roof_?” Bard asked once he'd turned around, and Lindir smiled at the endearingly bewildered quality to his voice.  
  
“The grass was wet.”  
  
Bard snorted. “Of course. The grass was wet. I’m not coming up there, just so you know. I like having a roof without holes in it.”  
  
“Would you like me to come down?”  
  
“Well,” Bard grinned up at him, teeth bright against his face in the moonlight. “If you do I’ve got something I’d like to tell you.”  
  
Not even a single shingle made a noise as Lindir moved down from the roof, jumping the last bit down onto the ground.

“The next time we need to repair the roof you’re doing it,” Bard said as he wrapped his arms around Lindir’s waist. “But that wasn’t what I wanted to say.”

“Hmm?” Lindir breathed deeply, rubbing his cheek against Bard’s enjoying the sharp rasp of stubble.  
  
"Yes, that,” Bard agreed and gently nudged Lindir’s head to the side so that their mouths aligned. He sighed after the first kiss, pulling Lindir a little more firmly against his side. “You see, if I wake up alone in the middle of the night I think I’m owed a kiss. This should be a rule.”  
  
“A royal decree?” Lindir suggested with a small smile.  
  
“You’re not going to find that amusing for much longer.”  
  
“Another royal decree?”  
  
Instead of a reply Lindir got another kiss.  
  
-  
  
Perhaps it was due to his talk with Bilbo Baggins, or perhaps it was just a desire to do something more useful while he once more waited for the King of Erebor, but in the week that followed Lindir began to ready a garden outside Bard’s house. A proper garden that was, not just grass.  
  
A garden that would have trees and flowers and herbs. Some vegetables. And a very specific bush that was actually much easier to find than he expected.

-  
  
“Pretty colour,” Bard remarked, leaning down to touch two fingers to a glossy green leaf.  
  
As Lindir patted the earth into place around the small stem he closed his eyes and wished it health and life in Sindarin. Then he turned his head and looked up at Bard.  
  
“It’s called a Daphne shrub.”  
  
“Oh.” Bard’s hand froze for a moment, then he stroked the tip of his index finger along the leaf, crouching down as he did so.  
  
Lindir placed the cutting in a place where it would have plenty of room to grow. Next summer it should be full of sweet-smelling pink and white flowers.  
  
Bard nodded after Lindir told him this, moving his free hand to rest on the back of Lindir’s neck, burrowing in beneath the fall of his hair.


End file.
